Second Time Around

An hour to write a blog entry. Should be plenty. I need a countdown timer with aggravating music.

In an hour I brave my front door. And then I face the terror of the paving, the long stretch of concrete down the gullies of terraced housing, the potholled obstruction of the roads with cars aiming straight for my fear. It's a scary world out there. Lots of lampposts for me to walk into.

The pub beckons. I must make it to the Wen & Pig and face the sci-fi society. The newly expanded and full of freshers sci-fi society.

Maybe if I refuse to get dressed D. will leave me behind and I won't have to go?

I think the general idea is that we scare them away rather than the other way around. This theory fails to take into account people such as myself a.k.a. complete wimps. This is the second meeting since the bulk of students returned and, to be honest, buggering off to the cinema to catch a silly movie is sounding like more and more of a better idea.

Last week we were banned from talking about fanfic and, in particular, slash. I think the suggestion was that we shouldn't want to be scaring people away quite as actively as is my evident inclination. That lasted until we discovered a Harry/Ginny shipper and he challenged us to squick him. My mind blanked in the face of overwhelming "real life people that I don't know and want to talk about fandom" and he survived relativey unscathed.

This is the thing. I don't mind meeting new people. In fact, I might go as far as to say I quite like it. It's an amazing opportunity to be anyone I like, to act happy and bubbly and approachable, to mess around and have fun without worrying about contradicting and repeating myself. What I hate and fear and dread is having to meet people that second time. Getting myself to the pub this week is infinitely more difficult than it was last week.

Remember names. Remember faces. Remember which conversations I've already had.

I really should get dressed. Ankles all the way.